


For Lovers Only

by Bolt41319



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-11-24 13:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18165941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bolt41319/pseuds/Bolt41319
Summary: Journalist Regina Mills is on an assignment to interview new photographers for a travel magazine, when she stumbles upon a former lover on the streets of Paris.Written for OQMovieWeekBased on the movie For Lovers Only





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a love story that also contains adultery, just so everyone knows!

Tuesday

Her never ending time in the sky is a stark contrast to what she’d thought her life would become. There were fleeting moments, reasons she’d pointedly wanted to avoid anything to do with Paris since she’d last left. Well, no, that’s not true. She’s been back since then, always flying back and forth between Maine and Paris for the magazine. 

Her boss had been impressed that she spoke fluent French, used it to his advantage when he had her make long distance conference calls. They were looking for a new photographer, someone to take pictures internationally. Gold called it their “Summer Edition”, and wanted the travel magazine filled with dreamy pictures of the Louvre and Arc de Triomphe. He didn’t know Paris as she did, didn’t spend the proper time traipsing around the countryside falling in love. 

It had been a beautiful time, a beautiful mess. 

Regina takes out her journal, uncaps her pen and traces circles around the edges of the page. The words won’t come, she knows that. They haven’t come for months now—  not like she wants them to. They’re fake, just true stories created using other people’s life experiences. She hasn’t felt connected to her writing in years, lost her touch when the light had disappeared from her life and faded slowly away into the clouds. 

Before she realizes it the pilot comes over the speaker, telling them to fasten their seatbelts for landing. She tucks her notebook away, slips it into her brown satchel and drops her head back against the rest, eyes fluttering closed.

The plane lands and she retrieves her duffel from the baggage claim, turns to find Marco waiting for her outside of the car. 

“Ms. Mills, it’s lovely to see you again.” 

“Same to you,” she nods, pulling her sunglasses on and climbing into the car. 

They ride in silence for a moment, her eyes not once leaving the window, watching as the buildings and gorgeous architecture pass by. 

“Wasn’t very smart to take a flight landing at rush hour.” 

Regina comes out of her trance, glances up to look at Marco through the rearview mirror. “True, however, you’re still here, always on time.” 

He smiles and nods once, eyes settling back on the road. “I haven’t seen you smile yet, ma’am.” 

She rolls her eyes, hand coming up to fiddle with the edge of her black shirt. “I just don’t quite like Paris anymore.” 

“I have the feeling each time you sit in the back of this car, this poor thing is turning into a hearse.” 

She chuckles at that, looking back up at him when he continues. 

“You’re in Paris, Ms. Mills. You’re supposed to have fun.” 

“Work isn’t quite all that fun anymore, Mr. Geppetto.” 

She watches as his hands tighten and let go of the steering wheel, his fingers tapping against the leather. “I should have bought you flowers. I think I’ll do that from now on, Ms. Mills, to lighten up your face.” 

“You’re sweet, Marco,” she blushes, ducking her head again. They fall into another silence, and before she realizes it he’s pulled up in front of her hotel and is opening the door for her. 

“I’ll see you in two days,” she smiles, slipping her bag from his hand to her shoulder. 

She settles into her room, drops herself down onto the bed and rolls onto her stomach, pressing her face into the pillow. She can feel herself dozing off, eyes fluttering closed, the effects of the jet lag lulling her to sleep. 

She wakes to the sound of her phone ringing an hour later, lets out a groan and reaches for the buzzing device. Daniel’s name flashes across the screen, and while he’s the last person she wants to talk to right now, she knows that if she doesn’t pick up he’ll just keep calling, and get angrier with her than he probably already is, especially since she didn’t call him when her flight landed. 

She reaches out and tugs the phone to her ear, swiping right as she does so. 

“Hey.” 

“Regina, you sound horrible.” 

She rolls her eyes at that, shifting on the bed to lie on her back, hand coming up to block the sun from her eyes. “It’s not like I partied last night,” she bites back in annoyance. He’s never been one to actually be  _ mean  _ to her—  their relationship is just easy. It’s mindless, simple conversations and mediocre sex. 

“Come on, Regina. Why’re you being like this? Why did you shut your phone off earlier?” 

She sighs, runs a hand over her face. “Because I’m tired.”

He’s shuffling in the background, rustling through papers or something and not responding, and she can feel herself growing more and more annoyed. “Daniel— ”

“Look, just call me if you feel like talking, okay?” He’s annoyed too, has that tone in his voice like she’s the last thing he wants to deal with when she’s acting like this. She’s heard it time and time before, like when he gets home from work and she hasn’t straightened up the kitchen, or she hides out in her office to get home after he’s already gone to sleep. 

“Alright then.” 

He hangs up after that, and she hears the tap of his fingertip to his phone, and then silence.

* * *

 

He has no inspiration. He’s been wandering around Paris for the past few hours now, roaming the streets taking pictures of scenery and other things he finds. There’s been a dead pigeon on the road outside of his hotel since yesterday, and while it’s absolutely not the most beautiful thing in the town, it’s the only thing he’s drawn to. 

It’s how he finds himself laying on the dirty sidewalk, stretched across cement to get the right shot, a well enough angle to capture the demise of the poor pigeon. 

His editor is going to hate this, but oh well. 

Robin climbs back up after he’s satisfied with the pictures he’s taken, scrolling through them one by one before slipping the camera strap back over his shoulder. 

He’s been in town for two days now, on an assignment from his editor to photograph Paris for their next edition. He met with the coordinator of their magazine the day he arrived, discussed with her the overall theme of the issue, and they agreed on what she was looking for. Something with love, passion, and longing. 

Which, unfortunately, is nothing that the image of a dead bird ensues. 

He goes back for a walk, traipses around the town snapping photos of the architecture, the scenery — all things that don’t quite express the love that he knows he’s supposed to be finding, but it’s all he’s got. 

He makes his way to the Pont des Arts, eyes skimming over the locks attached to the bridge, until his eyes fall upon one with his name written in worn out sharpie. 

He kneels down, traces his fingers over the pattern of his name, mind lost in thoughts of past loves and short-lived romances. He lifts his camera, lines the lock within the frame and takes the photo once, then twice for good measure. 

Robin begins to make his way back to his hotel, snapping a few photos on his walk, when he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket. She’s been calling more and more, and while he knows he has to pick up, the feeling of dread still lies in the pit of his stomach. 

He takes the call and lifts the phone to his ear. “Hey Marian.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Nothing, just like I do every time I come here.” 

“Robin,” she sighs, “Don’t do this.”

He runs his hand over his face and up into his hair, tugging on it. “Look, I’m just tired. I’m tired of fighting, tired of doing all of this.” 

“I don’t know what you want from me Robin.” She sounds exasperated, and he knows— feels it too. “I miss you.” 

His heart breaks a little, needs to go back and really figure things out, but he shakes his head and makes his way up the steps of his editor’s building. “Look, babe, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later, okay?” 

He hears her ‘mm okay’ before he hangs up the phone, slipping the device back into his pocket. 

He makes his way into the office, drops himself into the chair across from his editor’s as she finishes up her phone call.

Cruella has never been one to let him let his work go to shit. He knows that she’ll be frustrated with his pictures, and rightfully so. Who looks at a dead bird and thinks ‘romantic getaway in Paris’? 

She hangs up the phone and, without saying a word, holds her hand out to him. He drops the SD card into her hand, and she puts the drive into the computer and brings up his pictures. 

“Robin,” she groans. “You’re really going to tell me that this is the best you’ve got to offer? A dead pigeon and some buildings? Where has your creativity gone? You haven’t turned in pictures this awful since you moved back to the states. Where is your spark?”

“I feel like dead birds are a nice innuendo for spring fever,” he shrugs. He smirks up at her, but the look on Cruella’s face makes him want to sink into his chair. 

“What makes you think that people travelling to Paris are going to look at this magazine and think ‘oh yes, a dead bird and a building, that’s  _ just _ where I’d like to travel’? What can we do to get you back?” 

“I’ll work on it Cruella. There’s a lack of inspiration in the air though. I’m tired of looking at Paris through the eyes of a tourist. It needs a little flair.” 

She shakes her head, leans back in her chair and stretches her hands behind her head. “You need to spice it up a little bit, Robin. Put some love back in your life, would you?” 

“I’ll do what I can, Cruella.” He gets up then, gets his SD card back and puts it back into his camera. “But look Cru, I can’t make any promises though, okay? If I get anything before Thursday I’ll bring it back by.” 

“Of course darling,” she stands, leans against her desk. “I’m sure I’ll see you in a few days.” 

He gives her a final nod and with that heads back out of the office. 

It’s warm outside, the sun and warm spring air circling him as he steps across the street and down the stairs between the roads, headed back to his hotel. His mind is elsewhere, thinking of all the times where his heart was in his work and not far off, captured by a woman who left him years ago. 

He looks up and for a moment, time stops. Her hair is shorter, a bit darker than it was before, but she’s just as gorgeous as he remembers. 

He watches her stop, and he can feel his heart pounding in his chest as she lifts her sunglasses on top of her head and stares directly at him. 

“R- Regina?” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Day 2 Of OQMovieWeek

This can’t be happening. 

He’s here, standing on the steps staring at her and she feels like her heart is going to beat right out of her chest. He’s staring at her like he did all those years ago and no— no she can’t handle this right now. This isn’t real. 

“R- Regina?” 

She steps up toward him, runs her fingers through her hair and lifts her glasses onto her head. She’s stalling, doesn’t know what to say to him after all of this time. 

“I’m sorry, I— um, I have to get to a meeting okay? But,” she starts digging through her bag, pulls out a business card and slips it into his hand, “call me, okay?” 

She watches as he flips the card once in his hand, a glance before he’s looking back up at her.

“I’m sorry... I have to—” she stutters out, rushing back up the steps and away from him. She can’t look back, no, she could, she  _ won’t.  _ Won’t even contemplate turning to watch him watch her as she walks away. She can’t do it to herself.

She’s up the steps in seconds, practically running away from everything she doesn’t want to think about, doesn’t want to put the memories of 8 years ago back into her thoughts. 

Not that he hasn’t been there, pushing himself into every fucking moment of her day since the last time she saw him. 

She rounds the corner, goes quickly up the street before she’s sure she’s lost him. He wouldn’t follow her, god no, but the adrenaline of it all has her stopped now, leaning against the wall of the little shop on the corner. Her heart is beating rapidly, mind racing with all of the love and heartache that had resurfaced. 

Why now? Why him? And god, why  _ here _ , of all places? 

How is it that she and Robin Locksley found themselves back in Paris, at the same time, on the same block? 

She can’t deal with this now. Her meeting is in twenty minutes and she has to put on a straight face. Gold will have her off the issue in minutes if she embarrasses the company in front of Will, and while she values what just happened, she values her job just enough to go to her ridiculous meeting.

She comes up on the little bistro a few moments later, finds a quiet spot in the corner away from the door or the counter. 

Regina takes out her recorder and her notepad, set for her interview with the world renowned photographer Will Scarlet. 

He’s a cocky bastard, flirting with her and asking if he can take photos of her sometime after his issue is published and she wants to do nothing more than kick his ass. He’s droning on about his past, the escapades that led him to his art, when her mind drifts from their conversation to Robin. 

She still can’t fathom that he’s here. It’s been so long since she’s last seen him but he doesn’t look any different, and  _ damn _ he looks good. The scruff against his face was new, more rustic and woodsy than the fresh new photographer she’d met when she was 24. 

He was, without a doubt, the love of her life. 

They fit perfectly together, in every sense of the word. She’s still not sure why it ended, not even sure how they managed to separate themselves from one another long enough to break things off, but she can’t get him out of her head. It’s like the moment she saw him again, her whole world went back to that moment of kissing him for the last time. They didn’t truly expect it to be their last time, they were supposed to go back their separate ways for an assignment. But then suddenly life got ahold of them, and before she knew it she was married to a man that was nothing more than ordinary. She’s absentmindedly tracing her finger over her wedding band now, a simple silver that rests heavily against her. 

She’s brought out of her moment when Will finally stops talking about himself to take a sip from his coffee. “So, tell me Regina. Do you like Paris?” 

Her head comes up, a soft smile spread across her face. “I liked Paris once. When times were simpler.” 

“Oh, yes, of course,” he starts, right back into another story about his time aboard a ship in the Mediterranean. 

After their coffee she heads back to her hotel to sit down and make sense of the notes and recording she took during her meeting with Will, when her phone rings. 

She hesitates to flip it over for a moment, heart pounding at the possibility that it’s Robin, that he actually listened and took her card, but she goes for it and sighs when she sees her husband’s name come across the screen. 

She hits accept and puts the phone on speaker. 

“Hi Daniel.” 

“Hey, how was your interview?” 

“It was good, I think the magazine will like him.” 

“Oh great, well I wanted to ask you about when you’re coming home? I’m not sure if I can pick you up from the airport now.” 

She closes her eyes for a moment, sighs and shakes her head. “Seriously, Daniel? You insisted before I left that, ‘oh no Regina, what’s the point of driving yourself to the airport to spend all that money’. And now you can’t pick me up?” 

“There’s this…” 

She drowns him out, let’s him list off excuses as to why he doesn’t think he can come get her. It’s terrible, and she doesn’t hate him. He’s just — he’s boring, and he doesn’t quite think of anyone else over himself most of the time. Not in a bad way, no, just enough so that the times it happens and she notices, he gets frustrated. 

“Regina? Are you even listening to me?” she hears, and snaps out of her annoyance. 

“Sorry, I'm just out of it.” 

“Well, just let me know about your flight. I’m too tired to argue about this.” 

She can feel the heat rising, wants to argue, wants to tell him how ridiculous he’s being, but she just sighs once more and agrees. “Alright, bye.” 

* * *

He can’t believe it’s her. 

Of all of the people, of all of the places in the world, she’s here. One minute standing in front of him, shoving her business card into his hand and telling her about her meeting, and the next she’s running back up the steps, away from him just as quick as she came back into his view. 

This isn’t real. 

She looks so  _ young _ , so perfect and just as gorgeous as she was at 24, if not even more. She looked more mature though, her gorgeous body covered in a black turtleneck and black pants, with these red heels that elevated her up a bit. There was a white scarf wrapped around her neck and these big, thick-framed sunglasses covering most of her face, and he’d never seen anything more beautiful than her in that moment. 

It was as if all that lust and passion he’d lost so long ago came right back into him. 

He stays on the steps for a moment, dumbfounded, before he realizes that people are passing him, staring, and maybe it’s not best to just stand there and hope she’ll come back. 

He starts back to his hotel when he spots an older couple sitting on a bench, hands interlaced. They’re in a deep discussion, but the woman is laughing and the man has his other hand on her knee, and Robin can’t help but lift his camera and snap a picture of them. 

He feels a surge of excitement through him, his fingers itching to take more pictures on his stroll back to his hotel. He snaps photos of birds, live ones this time, and couples walking down the sidewalk. The inspiration fades away just as quickly as it took him over, and when he makes it back to his room and looks through his pictures, he knows exactly what came over him. 

Robin takes his phone out of his back pocket, pulling the thin black business card out with it.

He shouldn’t call her. She didn’t really mean it, did she? Is this something she honestly wants him to do, or did she just say that because she’d felt obligated to give him her time. 

There’s only one way to find out. 

.::.

Her hair is curled around her face, and she’s got that adorable flush to her cheeks, the one she used to get constantly when she drank red wine and the tannins would work their way through her system. He shouldn't be staring at her, should focus on the menu or the decor, anything other than her face as she breaks into this brilliant smile, which she immediately hides behind her glass. 

“So,” he starts, “how long are you in town for?” 

“A couple days,” she smirks, takes a sip of her wine. She hums as she takes her drink, and his eyes fall on her throat as she swallows. 

Fuck. 

“I still can’t believe that you’re here, now, in Paris. What are the odds?” 

“It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Both working in and out of France, in fields that cannot exist without the other. Besides, it would be too good to be true that I’d never get to see you again.” 

He shrugs and takes a sip of wine from his own glass. “I guess the Earth is round, right? We ran away from this long enough, if we’d have kept running we would have fallen off of the face of the Earth sooner or later.” 

She smiles at that, and he wants to reach across and take her hand into his. It’s been too long, really, and while he wishes that they’d come back into one another’s lives before now, he’s also grateful that they have this moment. Maybe he can finally get closure to the questions he’d had so long ago. 

“Did you ever think this would happen?” 

“Here?” she asks, stretching back into the seat, lifting a bruschetta off of her plate. “Not in Paris, no. It makes sense though, after all this time we’d find ourselves back here.” 

They fall into a comfortable silence for a moment, picking away at their food. He’s not hungry, but he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, so asking her out to dinner to catch up was the first thing that could come to mind. 

“It’s crazy,” she continues, food long forgotten between the two of them. “There are so many questions I want to ask you, but I don’t know if I can.” 

He nods, and she picks back up. 

“I don’t know if I want to know any of the answers to them.” 

“It does seem like some seriously bad territory to go into,” he nods, a little laugh escaping him. He looks up at her and smiles brightly, a full laugh coming out now. “You’re nervous. You only bite your nails when you’re nervous, and it seems the tabasco didn’t work.” 

Regina’s laughing now, a brilliant smile spread across her face. “I started liking tabasco after that.” 

The waiter comes over, and Robin hands him his card to pay their check. 

They go out for a walk after that, and they start talking about their work, pictures he’s taken and people she’s worked with over the years. 

Her portfolio has grown exponentially over the past 8 years, since he was an aspiring photographer and she was modeling her way through journalism school. She’s interviewed countless celebrities, worked her way up the ranks from independent actors to world-renowned photographers. 

“Do you like what you’re writing?” 

She shrugs, turning toward him when they make it to the water. He bought the bottle of wine they’d been drinking and brought it with him, so she slips it from his hand and takes a drink. 

“It’s like I’m taking other people’s words, and just trying to make them sound pretty. What about you? Are you still taking photos of beautiful girls?” 

“No,” he shakes his head, taking the bottle from her to take a sip. “Not anymore.” 

“What?” She laughs, “Don’t tell me that it got old?” 

“I got old,” he sighs, “well, not me, my eyesight. That’s what the editors tell me, at least.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I don’t see what they want me to see anymore, Regina. I just see—” He hesitates, takes a deep breath and looks down at his feet.

“What?” she asks, quietly now. He feels as if she knows what he’s about to say, but she’s afraid of his answer. “What do you see?”  

“You. I see you, Regina. Pieces of you in everything. Fucking,” he practically growls, runs his free hand through his hair. “Your eyes, your nose, your mouth… I see you everywhere I look. So now, I shoot things. The sky, buildings— things that have no eyeballs, or blood. Things that don’t have a heartbeat. Things that can’t remind me of you.” He sighs once it’s all off of his chest, lifts the bottle again to take another sip. “I’m a wreck, Regina.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Thursday of OQ Movie Week

“What are we doing?” she asks. 

She doesn’t know how to feel after his revelation. He’s hurt, that much she can clearly see, and it brings her comfort in a narcissistic way to know that throughout these past 8 years, maybe he’s just as broken as she is, has been all these years. 

“We’re… talking.” 

She rolls her eyes at that, knows damn well that this is so much more than just talking. The words coming out of their mouths, the feelings and emotions behind every letter will never just be talking between them. She’s going to cry, knows very well that this is too much for her heart to handle, that this can’t be the last time she sees him. Regina turns, looks up at the stars lining the sky before dropping her head into the palm of her hand, trying to take deep, steadying breaths to keep the tears at bay. 

She feels it then, his hand come up to caress at her side, the heat of his body behind hers. They’re not touching, not really. He’s not pressed against her, but the presence of him is looming, weaving its way into her every thought and emotion. She feels his forehead drop down against the top of her head, hears the shuddering breath he lets out. 

“When are you leaving?” he whispers to her, fingertip circling over her hip, against the fabric of her sweater.

“Tomorrow,” she gets out, and she can feel the tears coming. It’s not enough time to make up the last 8 years, but she desperately wants to. 

“Shit.” 

He’s still behind her, though his hand has dropped from her hip back down and away from her. It’s crazy really, how drawn to him she still his, how much she craves to throw her body against him. They shouldn’t do this, she knows that, but— fuck, it’s fate, and who is she to deny that?

She turns, her hand coming up to wrap around the back of his neck, and she surges her lips to his. 

The kiss is slow and deep, his hands coming up to caress her cheeks, holding her against him. He still has the wine bottle in his hand but she doesn’t care as she feels the cold glass against her cheek. Nothing could stop her now, and she steps closer to him, wraps both arms around him now. Her tongue slips into his mouth, a slow swipe over his. Her heart is pounding and he keeps kissing her and kissing her, and she never wants it to end. 

He pulls away though, and her lungs are thankful for the air as she sucks in a breath, feels him press his forehead to hers. She knows what he’s doing, giving her an out, but fuck— it’s too good and this  _ can’t _ be it. 

“Don’t stop,” she whispers against his lips. “Please, Robin, don’t stop.” 

They come together again, mouths open in a kiss that was slower than their last. She’s drinking him in, every part of him. Tastes the wine from their dinner, the hint of merlot mixed with the taste that is so decadently  _ him.  _ Nothing has changed since the last time she kissed him, that fateful morning at the airport when they’d promised it wouldn’t be the last time— that they would find each other again soon. 

She kisses him once again, then once more for good measure, before breaking from him again. 

Her hand comes up from around his back and her nails drag lightly against the hair at the nape of his neck, all while she breathes him in and gives herself this moment. 

.::.

Wednesday

Oh, oh god, she did it. 

She doesn’t recognize the tears are coming until they’re hitting her bare chest, falling in a steady  _ drip, drip _ , splashing against her skin. 

She’s sitting up in the bed, her back against the headboard, the black sheets she’s wrapped in a contrast against her pale skin. The silk feels good against her flushed skin, and she takes in a moment to look at the pillows strewn across the best, sheets tangled around her and against her. 

They shouldn’t have done this. 

It felt so good though, his hands caressing over her skin, fingers twisting against her nipples and pushing inside of her, bring her up, up,  _ up,  _ until her back was bowed up off of the bed and she was covering her mouth to tamp down her cries. 

He did it again with his tongue, first used his fingers to coat her with her own silky wetness before he ran his tongue over her, wrapped his arms around her thighs and spread her, sucked at her clit and fucked her with his tongue until she couldn’t stop her hips, twisting and grinding against his face. He held her there though, just as he used to do, until she was a babbling, worked up mess, moaning out against the back of her hand as she came down from her high.

They finally found themselves pressed up against one another, his back to the headboard and her settled in his lap. 

Her knees bracketed either side of his hips as she took him inside of her, slowly ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms. They stayed together, bodies pressed against one another's. His hands were a wrapped around her hips, lifting and lowering her body onto him, pressing himself inside of her. It was more than just a quick fuck, more than the carnal need for release. It was everything that they had missed for the past few years, wrapped up in quiet moans and delicious orgasms. 

When they came together she moaned through their kiss, arms wrapped around him, fingers tangled into his hair. After they came down from their high he slipped out of the bed and got a washcloth, cleaned them up and crawled back in. They stayed like that for hours, tangled up with one another until she finally fell asleep. 

Hours later though when she woke, he was gone. The side of the bed he’d slept on was cold, and she couldn’t stop the tears from coming. Just like that, their moment was over, and she was alone. 

* * *

He’s back in his editors office, lines of photos printed out and laid out across the table. Cruella looks pleased with the pictures he’s given her, the ones he took yesterday of the couple on the bench, and another holding hands.

“These are brilliant, Robin. Truly lovely. They’ll look perfect in this months edition. Your next assignment is going to be for an exhibition on the different museums of Europe. We’ll get in touch next month to have you fly out here and get to work. In that—”

“I’m out, Cruella. For a bit.” 

“Out?” she scoffs, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised. “You can’t be out, Robin.” 

He shakes his head, pushes himself off of the wall he’d been leaning on to walk over to her desk. “I need to be. You said it yourself yesterday, I don’t have inspiration anymore and I need to go work on it. The only way to do that is to leave Paris for a bit. I’ll get my head back in it, and I’ll call you when I’m ready for a new assignment, okay?” 

She leans back in her chair, brings her arms up to clasp them behind her head. “Whatever you say, darling. The magazine will be here, though, when you’re ready.” 

Robin heads out of her office, hops on the Metro and makes his way out of the city for a bit. He needs to get away, needs to clear his head after their night. 

And oh, what a night it was. 

Everything about her was perfect, from the gorgeous wave of her hair to the curve of her calves as her legs wrapped around him. It wasn’t what he’d expected to happen when he called her to go get dinner. His plan was to spend time with her, catch up after lost time and reminisce old, forgotten feelings. But in a few moments with her, he felt everything that he had forgotten come back. When she kissed him, he knew it was too late to turn back. 

They barely made it into her hotel before he had her stripped down to her bra and panties, had two fingers curled against her g-spot, making her moan and clutch onto his arm, writhing against his hand as he brought her over the edge. 

He then stripped her bare, himself down to his boxers, and splayed her out against the dark bedsheets. He draped her legs open, wrapped his arms around her thighs to keep her legs spread and lowered his mouth to her. She was so delicious, so  _ wet _ , and he feasted on her. It was like coming home, listening to her as he licked her, teased his tongue between her folds, slid his tongue inside of her and then back up to suck on her clit. 

He had to hold her against him, pin her hips down with his hands splayed open against her smooth skin when she began to rock herself against his face. He became possessive, only for a moment, knowing that after years he still knew exactly what to do to make her this wet, this wanton for him. She started crying out, gasping out incoherent sentences as he did one final sweep of his tongue over her and she came, hard. 

When she recovered, she kissed him, shifted their bodies around and sank herself onto his length. Her wet heat surrounded him and he hadn’t felt anything so good in years, the rock of her body against his, hands in his hair, fingers against his chest and touching him everywhere she could. He wrapped his arms around her and kept her pressed to his chest, drove his hips up into her slowly. Their connection was brilliant, her body squeezing against him. There was sweat between them as they worked one another up higher and higher, until his hand slipped between them, two fingers pressed to her clit until they came, their lips pressed together in a kiss as they both fell over that edge. 

He felt terrible sneaking out of her room without saying goodbye, but he needed to think. 

There was so much to consider, so much he didn’t want to think about, but with the plan he’d concocted in his head, thinking was inevitable. 

He makes his way off of the Metro, heads back above ground and walks into the rental building and up the counter. 

“Bonjour, j'ai besoin de louer une voiture.”

.::. 

He parks the black car outside of the building and sees her through the hotel window, dressed in these skin-tight black pants and a flowing white shirt, with a matching white scarf draped around her neck. She’s wearing these stunning white sunglasses that stand out against her hair, and he’s never seen anyone more beautiful. 

She steps out of the hotel, gasps in surprise at his being there, until a smirk spreads across her face, and she walks up to him. Her arms come up immediately, takes his face into her hand and she kisses him, presses her body against his and tilts her head to deepen their kiss. 

His fingers come up and drag her bag off of her shoulder, taking the duffle from her to toss in the back of the car. Before she can turn he wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her back into him, kissing her again and again— can’t help but laugh at the insanity of it all. 

They climb into the car and he leans over and kisses her once more before they pull off onto the street. She reaches into his bag, digs out his camera and snaps a few photos of him driving, turns the camera on herself as she shifts her body and snaps a picture of the two of them. 

It’s silent for a moment while she flips through the pictures before she breaks out into a laugh, loud and echoing through the car. “Oh, gods,” she laughs, her hand pressed against her lips. “So, what are we doing?” she asks, still caught in a fit of giggles. 

They’re contagious, and he laughs with her while he responds, “I don’t know, but honestly I don’t want to think about it.” 

Regina peeks her tongue out, bites her lip and grins at him. The front seat of the black station wagon he’d rented has one of those bench seats, so she seems to take advantage of the lack of a barrier between them and slides over, splays a hand over his chest and leans in to kiss his jaw. 

“But tell me, Robin Locksley,” she teases, her hand dragging down his chest, fingertips itching closer to the belt of his pants. “Where do you think we’re going?” 

He stops the car at a red light and looks over, captures her lips in a heated kiss, all tongue and teeth and much raunchier than the kisses they’d shared the night before. He pulls away before she can react, but he sees the tell-tale shift of her hips that he recognizes from all those years ago. 

“Us? To hell, probably.” 

She draws back from him and flashes him another smirk, and then he feels her lips on his neck, sucking at the spot before his ear before she releases it and whispers into his ear, her hot breath making him want to pull the car over and kiss her properly. 

“Okay,” she whispers, her hand coming up to curl over his shoulder and somehow bring her closer to him. “But before that?” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Friday of OQMovieWeek

They’ve pulled off on the side of the road so he can go back into the woods and pee. He’s been driving for about two hours now, and she’s been determined to sufficiently distract him, get him turned on to this point where he can’t hold himself together. 

Regina takes this moment to call Daniel, supposes she should let him know she isn’t coming back home for the next few days. She sits on the hood of the car, swinging her legs rhythmically to the ring of the other line. Daniel picks up, a little relieved when she tells him that she doesn’t need a ride from the airport, but annoyed when she informs him of why. 

“It’s just a job they’ve put me on. I need to follow this photographer around for the next few days, but I’m not sure how long.” 

“Do you even know this guy?” 

“No, but Gold called me and said he’s one of the best, and I got reassigned since I’m already in France. It’s nothing, Daniel. I’ll be home soon.” 

“Alright then, just call me when you know a date,” he says, and the line goes dead. 

Robin’s back then, stepping between her legs as she sits on the car, slides his hands up against her thighs. “How’d yours go?” 

He shakes his head, reaches his hands around her to cup her ass in his palms. “She’s in bed by 8, lights out by 9.” 

“You make it sound like prison.” She lifts her hands, drapes them over his shoulders. 

“You said it, not me,” he sighs. “Let’s not— let’s just enjoy our freedom while we can.” 

“You make it seem so easy.” She leans in, presses a quick kiss to his lips. 

He kisses her back, a light peck before leaning back. “What? This?” 

“Yeah,” she chuckles, her fingers playing with his hair. 

“But I left out an important part,” he leans in, drops a kiss to the spot right under her ear. 

“What’s that?” 

“The part about fucking you in that castle up there,” he whispers and then draws away from her. 

She sits there too stunned to move, biting her lip as she imagines all the dirty, deliciously wonderful things he’s about to do to her. She hears the car door open and turns around on the hood, glares at him and the cocky smirk he wears on his face. 

“Come on, Regina. Aren’t you excited? Come this way, there’s something over there.” 

She eyes him carefully and hops off of the hood, walking around toward the driver side of the car. He leans out, locks his fingers into her belt loop and tugs her body against him, drops his head down to kiss her, tongue teasing against the edge of her lips. 

They don’t stop kissing as they somehow maneuver their way back into the car, her back laid against the bench seat. He settles himself between her, her hips open, leg wrapped around him. They keep kissing, a battle for dominance until he drags a hand up between her thighs, presses his fingers against her clit through her jeans. 

She lifts her hips up against his hand, chases the press of his fingertips against her, circling slowly. The wetness between her thighs is growing each second, a slow build up of the heat throughout her body. Her hands come up, one wrapped around his shoulders to keep him against them, continuing their kiss, the other wrapped around his forearm as he quickens the pace of his fingers over her. 

He’s doing this on purpose, getting her terribly worked up but won’t do anything about it. It’s something he used to do all the time, pull her into the corner of a room or tie her up to their bed, tease her and bring her closer and closer to that edge without bringing her over. She’d get all flushed, just as she is now, her chest heaving with each deep breath, trying to get him to carry her over the edge of her orgasm. He won’t though, will bring her up just enough and then let her sit there and writhe. 

True to her memories, the second she breaks their kiss to let out a breathy moan he pulls his hands away, guides them down to shift her legs so she’s in a sitting position in the car, and fixes himself to sit in the driver seat. 

“You bastard,” she growls, shifting in the seat. She’d gotten herself so worked up with her memory of all the things he’d do to her, that now she is  _ wet _ . Can feel it between her thighs, seeping against her panties, and she wants to push her own hand down under the seam of her pants and ride her own fingers. 

She doesn’t though, just glares at him with a playful smile as he pulls the car away and drives up the road toward the historic castle. 

He parks the car along the outside, reaches between them to grab his camera. “You ready, love?” 

“You owe me an orgasm, Robin.” She twists to get out of the car and lets out a little groan when she feels the slickness between her thighs. It’s a bit embarrassing, feeling how turned on she is from his touch in just a few moments, but he wants to play this game and she is happy to oblige. 

They walk hand in hand into the castle, and look around at the beautiful architecture and views over the beach the castle sits upon. She takes her hand from his and walks away from him, hand trailing over the stones. She can hear the camera snapping, turns back to look at him as he lifts the camera and snaps a few more. 

“What do you see when you look through that thing?” she asks, turning to sit on a bench beneath one of the windows. 

“Really? You’re going to interview me now?” he asks, taking another picture of her. 

She shakes her head and leans back against the stone. “No, not interview you, per say. I just have always wondered. What do you see?” 

“Put your head down,” he directs, and she does and hears another click. They’re the only people in the abandoned castle. It’s a spot he’s used to take pictures of her before, back when they first met that summer, and it’s always been her favorite. The history behind each wall and turn is overwhelming, and she wants to soak it all in with him, through his pictures and his talent. 

“I mean, what’re you looking at?” 

“I just find something beautiful, and I hope that it makes sense in the frame and I click.” 

She looks out the window, takes in the waves crashing outside of the castle and the birds flying overhead. It’s serene and perfect, and when he brings his head down and captures her lips in a kiss, she can’t stop her body from surging up into his. 

His hands come to her hips, lifting her body so that she’s got a foot against the bench, her other dangling. Both of her hands grasp at his shoulders as he presses her to the stone, the palms squeezing at her hips as he keeps kissing her. 

There’s going to be marks, she’s sure of it when he pins her body, shifts and lifts a leg so his thigh is nestled against her. 

It brings back all of the desire she’d tamped down since they started their impromptu photo-shoot in the castle. She knew this was coming, from how he’d brought her up in the car and warned her before they left the woods, but  _ oh _ she wasn’t ready for the onslaught of their kiss, his hands shifting to guide her body onto his thigh. He relinquishes her control from her, guides her body against him, using his own hands to hold her there. Her hips are rotating against him but he stops her, breaks their kiss and presses his forehead to hers. 

“Now, now,” he chides, “Just let go, Regina. Just feel.” 

And oh, she does. 

She’s wet again, embarrassingly so, can feel it through her panties and against the apex of her thighs. Her hands come up to grip at his arms, his shoulders, weave into his hair— anywhere she can reach. It’s brilliant, how he still remembers how to guide her, the spots that make her toes curl and her head drop back. 

The thrill of being caught isn’t helping the situation either, making her writhe in anticipation, move herself faster over him. His hand is coming around now, unbuttoning her pants and slipping under the waistband of her jeans, fingers moving down between her folds.

“Fuck,” she gasps out as he sinks one finger into her heat. Her eyes flutter closed and she drops her head against his shoulder, shuddering when his thumb comes up and circles over her clit. 

“You’re so wet, love.” He doesn’t move his fingers, just keeps the one buried inside of her, teasing, letting her clench around him. It’s not nearly enough to bring her over the edge, but she basks in the incredible feeling of his finger pressing against her and his thigh warm between her own. 

“Wet because of you.” 

He lets out this primal growl at that, and she smirks, grinding herself down onto his hand. Two can play at that game. She braces her foot that’s pressed to the bench, goes to lift herself up and drive down onto his finger, but he shifts his thigh before she can, presses his finger deep inside of her. She drops her head back on a whine, unable to get herself off on his hand with the way he’s stilled her. 

“Come on Robin,” she groans, trying desperately to create some sort of friction. “ _ Move _ .” 

Their bodies are pressed so close to one another that he has to lean back to see her, and she takes in the cocky grin on his face. He’s enjoying this, they both are, but she’s surprised to see the level in which he likes watching her get off. 

His hand shifts in her pants, a second finger pressing to her entrance. “More?” He asks, and she wants to kiss that stupid grin off of his face. “I thought you liked this, Regina. The feeling of me bringing you closer and closer to the edge, drawing out each sinful sound from your gorgeous mouth, driving you right up to that point before—” 

He slides the second finger into her and circles the pad of his thumb over her clit at the same time, and her eyes practically roll back into her head. “Oh, that’s it,” she moans, riding herself against his hand. 

“You’re so beautiful like this, taking my fingers inside of you.” He curls his fingers, presses the pads of his fingertips to the spot inside of her that has her doubling over, her own fingers digging into his forearms. 

She can feel herself getting closer, drawing nearer to the edge of her orgasm. Heat fuels its way through her, warmth spreading as he curls his fingers up and fucks her with them. She can’t help but clench around him, biting her lip to try and keep the noise down, but he moves faster and faster inside of her, almost to the point of going over and coming around him until it’s gone. 

His hand slips out of her pants, grasps against her thigh to drop her leg down safely. 

No. No, no, no, no, he can’t be doing this to her again. 

The whine she lets out is childish as he buttons her pants back up, fingers quickly zipping her up and holding her to him to steady her ground. 

“What?” he asks innocently, leaning in to steal a kiss from her pouting lip. 

“You’re evil, you know that? Pure, unadulterated evil.” She can feel the heat of her flushed skin radiating as she comes down, runs her fingers through her hair to try to cool herself off. 

He leans in and kisses her again, nips at her bottom lip with his teeth. “You still love me though,” he laughs, tugging her close to him. 

“I’d love you more if you actually let me  _ come _ , you bastard.” 

His hands trail down to her ass, slide into her back pockets and he gives her a firm squeeze. “I just told you I’d fuck you in the castle darling. Didn’t say you’d get to come in the castle.” 

She gasps, surges forward to kiss him, tries to pull his hands back around but he doesn’t budge. She gets a hand around through, brings it down to palm him over his jeans, and she can feel his groan vibrate through their kiss, but he still keeps his ground. 

He pulls away from her, brings his camera back up and snaps a picture of the scowl she’s giving him. “Beautiful,” he whispers, taking a few more pictures. 

* * *

He’s got her pressed against the door before they even have it open. One hand is fiddling with the doorknob, trying desperately to get the key in, but she has a hand down the front of his pants and she’s kissing him like they won’t wake up together tomorrow, and  _ fuck _ it’s beautiful and distracting.

The key finally turns, thank god, and he opens it with her body. 

He can’t figure out where to put his hands, moving them from their spot in her hair down, low to her hips, then back up to shove her shoulders back, pressing her harder into the door. She’s rough too, raking her nails up his chest, clawing at his biceps, holding her to his body and then pushing him away from her. 

Oh lord, she looks like she’s going to eat him alive.

The brilliant smirk she gives him has him growling, pushing the cardigan off of her shoulders and dragging her body back toward him. They’re pulling each other's clothes off, hands grasping at fabric, but he’s unable to move as fast as his brain needs him to. He wants her naked, needs her spread across the bed and writhing under him, bringing her up and over until she’s no longer able to speak, to think of anything other than him. 

He can’t get enough of her. They haven’t stopped kissing since they got into the hallway of the hotel, and even now they’re just as quick and dirty as they were moments ago. He’s so hard for her, the tightness in his pants making it difficult to concentrate, but he knows that she’s got to be worked up. If she’s in any way the same as she was 8 years ago, edging twice has her wet and craving any sort of touch. 

He peels her white shirt off of her, gets her down to a white tank top and her black pants, and she’s kissing him again, her own hands working against the hem of his shirt to pull it up over his head, so he’s down to his own tank top and jeans. 

He lifts her then, wraps his hands around the delightful curve of her exquisite ass and carries her to the bed, dropping her down with a bright laugh. 

Fuck, she’s perfect.

She sits halfway up and grips the straps of his tank, pulls him down on top of her into another kiss. 

His hands come between them and he finally gets her pants unbuttoned, shoves them down so her ass is bared to him, the strap of a red thong under his fingertips makes him groan. He can’t decide what he wants, whether to get her pants off of her and pin her legs open, let her come on his tongue, or to throw one of her legs over his shoulder and fuck her senseless. Either way, her pants need to go, so he scoots back on the bed and laughs at the mess they’ve already created, pillows strewn across the bed, blankets a mess under them. He gets her pants off of her, her gorgeous legs bared to him, and then he runs his hands up the insides of her thighs and tugs her panties off as well.  

She has this incredible smile on her face, the one that makes his heart beat harder in his chest, and he can’t help the “I love you” that spills out of him. 

It makes her smile more, and god he’d tell her that every second of every fucking day just to see her smile like that. 

She lifts her legs and wraps her calves around his hips, pulls him off balance to fall over her again, and she kisses him with a smile that matches his own. 

He rucks her tank up, breaks their kiss to pull it off of her and divests her of her bra as well. His hands come up, thumbs brushing over her nipples as he takes her breast in his hand and squeezes. Her hips are circling under him, and she’s biting her lip in a way that makes him want to do it again. 

“Fuck, Regina, you’re so sexy.” 

She laughs at that and sits up, pushes at his shoulders until he’s falling back and she’s straddling his thighs. 

“So are you Robin Locksley,” she smirks, getting his tank and pants off of him. She palms him over his white boxers and he groans, lifting his hips to meet her hand. She feels so good, her nimble fingers working their way under the waistband of his underwear, pushing it off of him and wrapping around his painfully hard cock. 

“Oh,  _ shit _ , Regina,” he groans, bucking his hips. She’s fucking him with her palm now, working her hand over him, squeezing and then moving down to his balls. 

“You’re not the only tease,” she whispers, shifting her body down so her mouth is dangerously close to him. God he’s missed this, missed  _ her _ as her tongue presses against the underside of him. She licks her way up his cock, hand resting at the base of him. She gives him one firm squeeze and he looks down, makes eye contact with her as she wraps her lips around him and sucks on the tip. 

Oh, oh fuck, she can’t do that or this will end far faster than they need it to. Not that they won’t be fucking until the sun sets and then rises again, because he knows now he has no intention of leaving this room any time soon. But still, he wants to come inside of her, and when he feels her mouth completely wrapped around him, he knows he has to stop her. 

“Regina, fuck, oh god babe I need—” he groans again, his fingers threading through her hair. “You’ve got to let up, I want to feel you.” 

She keeps going for a few moments, sucks on his cock and circles his balls in her hand before releasing him. She’s got this grin on her face, and she stretches back up his body and kisses him deeply. “I missed that,” she whispers, taking his bottom lip between her teeth before kissing him again. 

He brings his hand up and weaves his fingers into her hair, holding her to him as he kisses her until they’re both breathless. He sits up, legs shifting underneath her to draw her into his lap, and he can’t stop kissing her. He misjudges his position on the bed, however, and he realizes they’re slipping off of the bed when it’s too late and his ass, thankfully, lands on one of the pillows they’d thrown off of the bed earlier. 

She lands with an  _ ‘oof’ _ on top of him, and it takes a second before they both break into uncontrollable laughter. 

“Oh, oh god,” she laughs, her hand pressed to his chest, hair falling around her face. “So much for being an honest woman,” she lets out on another laugh, her body vibrating against him. 

He’s laughing too as brings one of his hands up, brushes her hair back over one shoulder and cups her cheek in his palm. “You want to stop?” he asks. It’s a serious question surrounded by their giggles, but he means it. If she wants to stop, wants to turn around and rationalize all of this, he’ll do so as long as it means she doesn’t run away from him. 

She turns serious though, leans down and grazes her lips over his in a brief kiss. “No.” 

“You sure?” 

“No,” she says, but that teasing grin is back and she’s kissing him again, her tongue grazing its way through his mouth. 

He turns her body over, sets himself between her thighs and breaks their kiss again. “Wait, wait, wait, Regina. Shit—”

“What?” she asks, breathless under him, hand palm resting against his cheek, his hand curved around her bare side. 

“We can stop,” he gets out between her next kiss. 

She shakes her head, runs her thumb over the curve of his cheek. “I don’t want to stop.” 

He keeps his eyes on her, sees the honestly reflected in her own gaze. “Alright.” And then he’s kissing her again, the hand curled around her side slipping down between them, two fingers circling against her opening. 

“You’re absolutely soaked,” he groans, bringing his fingers up to circle her clit. 

She kisses his shoulder, nips at his skin and then runs her tongue over the spot to sooth it and to tamp down her own moan. “Robin, I need you to fuck me.” 

He grazes his hands up her smooth legs, traces his fingertips over the muscle in her thigh and shifts her legs around his waist. “Fuck,” he groans, teasing her with his fingers one more time. “You’re absolutely stunning.” 

She grinds her hips against his fingertips, brings her hands around to grip his ass and pull him closer to her. 

He guides himself into her warm heat and they both moan at the feeling of her tight heat wrapped around him. He gives her a few seconds, kisses her and lets her adjust. He feels her hands against his ass, gets a good squeeze from her and he starts thrusting. 

“Oh god,” she groans, one arm coming up to claw at the wood under her as their hips meet. He drives into her, pushes her thighs apart and opens her up for him. She feels so fucking  _ good _ , so tight and wet around him, and he craves her. Bringing her to the edge twice has her already on the brink of her orgasm, her back arching off of the floor beneath him. 

“Robin, I can’t—” she moans, the hand not grasping at the floor beside her head coming up to thread through her own hair, gripping tightly. She looks so on edge, so fucking beautiful beneath him, and it makes him move faster, thrust deeper into her. 

She stretches up and brings her arms around him, digs her fingernails into his back as he grips her hips, fucks her harder. “Agh, fuck,” she gasps, burying her face into his shoulder to quiet herself. He does realize, for a fleeting moment, that they’re fucking on the floor of a hotel room in the middle of the afternoon, but the thought disappears when she clenches around him and grips the muscles of his back, her own back bowing underneath him. 

“I’m going to—” she gasps, biting down onto his shoulder. “Oh yeah, oh,  _ god _ ” she groans, letting out a beautiful cry as she comes against him. 

He doesn’t let up, keeps thrusting into her as she comes, and it’s only minutes before she’s coming back up again. “God, fuck, don’t stop,” she lets out, and he groans in her ear. Their bodies are pressed against each other’s, and he feels like he’s collapsing on her, tries to shift up onto his forearms but she holds him back down. “No, no stay,” she moans again. 

He’s going to come, can feel the tightening in his balls as he slams into her, pushing deeper with each thrust. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, so good, so tight around me.” He moves a hand between them, circles two fingers over her clit. “I love making you come, Regina. Love the way you feel around me, so perfect and— oh,  _ ugh _ ” he breathes out. “Come for me, babe. Let me hear you.” 

She’s squirming now, the onslaught of his hips against hers, his fingers against her clit bringing her up, up,  _ up _ to her second orgasm. Her grip on him tightens as she shudders and comes against him, the clench of her walls against him bringing him over the edge with her. 

They both moan, arms wrapped around one another, wrapped securely in each other's arms. She grabs his hair and guides his head, kissing him as they both come down from their high. 

He breaks the kiss on a pant, catching his breath. “I like fucking you into the wood floor,” he whispers, sucking at the spot against her neck as she laughs gorgeously into his ear. 

.::.

After another round in the bed they’re beat, satisfied and curled up between the sheets. They’re upside down on the bed, couldn’t bother to turn themselves around properly after he went down on her until she was crying out his name, and then again when she rode him. 

He’s drifting in and out of consciousness, dragging his fingers up and down the length of her spine, her smooth skin beneath his fingertips. 

“You know,” she starts, breaking the comfortable silence between them, “I was hoping that I would never see you again, but then I’d wake up every morning wanting it to be you beside me.” She’s twirling her fingers through his hair and cupping the back of his neck, never stops touching him. 

“This morning I woke up going through every instance we had before… all of the ones we were able to have, and the ones we weren’t. I used to wonder what you were doing. I’d be at the grocery store picking out apples and wonder if you were too. I’ve just been going through the motions. It’d been easier than thinking, because when I’d start thinking I wouldn’t stop.” 

She’s got her thumb against his temple now, rubbing soothingly over the little spot by his forehead. “It’s crazy though,” she barely whispers. “Through every twist and turn, all of it was a straight line that led me right back to you.” 

Robin shifts himself up, propped on his forearm to lean in and kiss her. It’s a slow settle of his lips on hers, a contrast to the kisses they’d shared a few hours before. 

Regina breaks from him and he plops back down, his head nestled into the sinfully soft sheets. He has his arm stretched out above his head and she reaches up, turns his arm over to trace over the crest tattooed on his arm. “Wasn’t my name here before?” 

He smirks at that, watches she traces  _ Regina _ in a wavy pattern under the lion tattoo. “Yeah, it was. It had to evolve.” 

“So you turned me into a lion?” she asks, eyebrow raised. 

“Mmm,” he agrees. “I had to move on, and I couldn’t do that with your name tattooed on my arm,” he chuckles. “So, you became a lion.” 

She’s tracing the lines of the tattoo now, eyes fixed on the black lines against his arm. “So does mean you thought I was a bitch?” 

He rolls his eyes, moves his hand to link his fingers with hers. “Only you could think that, Regina,” he leans in, kissing her. “I wanted it to be a symbol for courage, and strength. Partially for me to get over you, but mainly because that’s what I always saw in you. A person who was never willing to back down from a battle… and I didn’t want to lose that part of you.” 

She’s still and silent for a moment, squeezes his hand once before guiding her fingers out of his palm and back over the tattoo. 

“For being the photographer in this, you always did have a way with your words. He’s a good looking lion.” 

“Yeah?” 

She leans in and presses a kiss to the tattoo, whispering  _ ‘yeah’ _ against his skin. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Saturday of OQMovieWeek

Thursday 

She’s a fucking tease. 

They left the hotel room that morning, rode bikes around this quaint little town about two hours outside of Paris, through the woods and outside of this old school building that they’ve turned into a museum. They finished out their ride, got lunch at this little bistro in town, and got back in the car to head to their next destination when she practically jumped him.

Thank the gods for their bench seat, because she’s pressed up against him, one leg draped over his lap, arms around his shoulders, biting and kissing against the vein in his neck. 

It feels good, has his cock stirring in his pants, but he wills himself to hold out, to concentrate on the road before him rather than the sinful things she’s trying to do to him. 

“You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” 

She smiles against his skin, comes up to kiss the underside of his jaw. “You know, it’s good to have a little  _ fun _ every once and awhile. I seem to remember you have a thing for being teased.”

“No dear,” he smirks, turning his head to kiss her once. “I just have a thing for you.” 

He slows the car at a red light and she’s on him, hand against his growing erection, palming him through his pants. It feels so good, so distracting, and he needs to pull the car over and fuck her properly in the front seat, but the light’s changing and she’s off of him again. 

“Light’s green darling,” she whispers into his ear, kissing his cheek. “Let’s go.” 

“I swear—” he growls, hands tight against the steering wheel. “When we get to this hotel, I’m going to fuck you senseless.” 

She shifts again in the seat, her back against the dashboard, legs crossed on the seat so she’s turned and looking at him. “Promise?” She slips her hand down, runs her fingers over herself through her jeans. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to wait that long. Seeing as you made me wait yesterday,  _ twice _ , at that…” Her hand travels lower, and he wills himself to keep staring at the road but  _ fuck _ she’s stretching out, wrapping her nimble fingers around his wrist and tugging his right hand off of the steering wheel. 

She’s,  _ oh god _ , bringing his hand up to her lips, tongue peeking out to trace over his finger, swirling around the tip just as she’d done to his cock the night before. His eyes go dark, darting between her mouth and the road. He can’t concentrate, should really pull over and pin her down to the seat and get her off a few times, but they’re almost to the next hotel and he  _ really _ wants to take his time with her. 

“You like that?” she asks, bringing his hand down. She’s in that tank top he’d peeled off of her yesterday, and this tight pair of black leggings, with one of those shawl things draped over her shoulders. He can’t wait to get it all off of her, but then she’s dragging his hand down her chest and sliding his palm under her top. 

Jesus, she can’t be real. 

Her nipple is already hard under his fingers, and he pinches at it until her hips are grinding against air and her skin is flushed. 

“You’re so beautiful, Regina. I don’t know how I’ve spent the last few years of my life without you, how I lived without seeing you every day, hearing your voice, telling you how much I love you.” He squeezes her nipple again, slides his hand across her to the other breast, giving it the same treatment. 

“You’re a sap, you know that?” she laughs, which turns into a deep moan when he twists her nipple. “ _ Shit _ , Robin do that again. I can’t— it’s been so long without you. I would hope to see you everyday, just somewhere. Maybe out in town, at the store buying groceries, or in the park going for a walk. I’d look for you wherever I went. Didn’t know—  _ oh _ — where you ever were, but there was always a change. And now that I have you, I don’t want you to go anywhere.” 

She takes his hand then, pulls it out of her top and sucks his fingers again. “I need you to promise me something,” she whispers, biting her bottom lip and staring at him.

“What’s that love?” 

“Don’t stop driving” she smirks, putting his hand back on the steering wheel. No, she’s not doing this, oh  _ shit _ . 

She trails her hand down, slides her palm down her body and into her pants. 

“You’re going to be the absolute death of me,” he groans, eyeing her as she curls a finger, lets out the tell-tale moan that she’s got it buried inside of her. 

“Feels so good,” she whispers, shifting her hips to grind against her hand. “You’ve gotten me so wet, Robin. All for you, only for you.” 

“Tell me,” he growls, tightly gripping the steering wheel. “Tell me what you’re doing, everything you’re doing. I need to know how good it feels.” 

She moans at that. “It’s good, so good, but it’s not you. There’s two of my own fingers inside of me and, god Robin I wish they were yours.”

“You’re going to move them inside of you, but slowly. Bring them in and out, curl the pads of your fingers against your g-spot.” She lets out this breathy gasp, and he can see the shape of her hand following the pace he’s set for her. “That’s it babe, just like that. Use your own hand just like I’d use my own. You can go a bit faster now, just enough to warm your blood.” 

She’s moaning, writhing against her own hand, and it may be the hottest thing he’s ever seen, her getting off on his direction. “There you go, love. Now pull your fingers out and circle your clit, with only one finger. Lightly, though. Don’t put too much pressure, only enough to get yourself feeling good.” 

Her elbow draws back, hand coming up to circle over her clit just like he’s told her. “I need— more, please, oh god. You’ve got to give me something here, some sort of relief.” 

“Now, now, you’ll be okay, just keep going, just how you are. Add a little pressure now, you can add a second one. But not too much, just—” 

She gasps, hips rising off of the seat to meet her own hand. “Too much, love. Move your hand back down and feel how wet you are, how wet you’ve become for me. You like this, don’t you? You like me telling you what to do, leading you to your first orgasm of many.” 

“This feels so good,” she moans, and he can see her hand moving, her fingers thrusting in and out of her at a steady, but slow pace. “I love this, love  _ you _ so much.” She gasps again, and he reaches down and stills her hand as she starts to move faster inside of her. 

“Not yet, Regina. Just take your time, focus on how you feel.” 

“I feel fucking  _ good _ ,” she whines, tries to move her hand but he stops her. “Let me move.” 

“When I let go, I want you to do exactly what you want. Get yourself off, but you can’t come.” 

She eyes him at that, glares at him, the cute flush on her cheeks making him smile. “Or, you could just let me come. You can listen to me get off on my fingers to the thought of you, could put your hand down and feel how wet I am because of you, how much I want you.”

He wants to, oh god how he craves to feel her wet heat around his fingers, around his cock, squeezing him as she comes. But he wants to watch her too. She’s gorgeous, and brilliant, and he craves to watch her fuck herself. 

“I need to see you.” 

She slips her finger out of herself on a sigh, uses her free hand to shimmy her legging and panties down, just barely past the curve of her ass. She spreads her legs as much as she can, thighs still trapped in her pants, but drops her hand back down and curls two fingers through her wet heat. 

“So bloody beautiful,” he groans, eyes leaving the road for a second to watch as she pushes two fingers inside of herself. He moans with her, at the sight of her. 

They’ve got to get to this hotel soon or he’s going to explode. 

“Harder, love. And add a finger.” 

She does, moans as her body stretches around her finger, brings her other hand down to circle a finger over her clit. “Ohh, this is so good,” she moans, moving both of her hands faster. “It’s so tight. Is this what it feels like, when you’re inside of me? So tight and hot and wet, I—” she moans again, grinding her hips against her fingers. “I’m,” she gasps, “I’m going to come.” 

“That’s it, love. You’re perfect. Let yourself come. Feel it for yourself, what it’s like when you squeeze my cock, when you let go around me.” 

She’s crying out now, moving faster inside of herself until suddenly she chokes out this breathless, gorgeous sound, and collapses against the seat. 

He’s rock hard, can feel his erection straining uncomfortably in his pants as he watches her come down her from her high. It’s his life goal, his new daily aspiration to make her come at least twice a day. She deserves more, deserves the world, but if he can at least make her feel good he’s happy. 

She pulls her pants back up once she’s come down, eyes his erection with a smile on her face. “You’ve got a problem there.” She shifts in the seat, stretches over and palms him through his pants. Her fingers are nimble when she unbuttons his pants, reaches in and wraps her fingers around his cock, releasing him from the confines of his jeans and boxers. 

“This is all mine,” she whispers, leaning down to wrap her mouth around the tip of his cock. 

* * *

She wasn’t always one to enjoy this, but Robin’s reactions make it so worth it.

He’s so responsive to her touch and she loves it, craves the little moans he’s letting out, the twitch of his hand as it weaves into her hair. She pulls her mouth off of him, tilts her head to look up at him. “Keep your eyes on the road,” she smirks, can hear the cockiness in her own voice, then goes back down and licks him from base to tip. 

“Fuck, Regina I won’t be able to do this,” he groans, and she can feel his hip clench beneath the hand she’s using to stabilize herself. 

“You can,” she hums around him, pulling off again and sucking on the tip of his cock. He’s so hard, and she can’t wait to get him back to their hotel, let him fuck her into the mattress of their hotel bed until she’s screaming. She’s wet just thinking about it, and it doesn’t help that he’s letting out this string of complements that go straight between her thighs. 

His hand is gripping her hair, not tight, but enough of a little tug to make her squirm her own hips, desperate for some sort of friction between her thighs. He’s so good to her, knows everything she likes, everything she’s missed for so long. He’s the best she’s ever had, hands down. Always desired to give her exactly what she needed, and if he wasn’t getting her there, he followed direction  _ very _ well. He’s adventurous too, which she missed. There’s no way in the past 8 years of her life she’d even dream of fucking herself in the front seat of a moving vehicle. 

She takes him completely in her mouth, runs her fingers up his thighs and squeezes as she sucks, then slides her tongue over his length. 

“Babe,” he groans, “I’m not going to make it.” 

“Come for me,” she tells him when she releases him, putting her mouth back on him immediately to suck, hard. He lets out this primal groan and tightens his fingers around the steering wheel, willing himself to breathe, to calm down which makes her smug. He’s got to pull over, needs to find a spot because if he comes while he’s driving, they’re sure to crash. 

He finds a spot, somewhere secluded about 30 miles from the beach town they’re headed to next, and parks the car. It’s only then that she starts working him up more than before, her warm mouth wrapped around him, tongue working it’s way up and down his length. 

“This is— brilliant, Regina, you’re absolutely incredible. Fuck, I can’t, this is—  _ oh shit _ ,” he gasps, hands tightening in her hair, just enough to hold her against him as he comes in her mouth. His thighs are shaking, trembling under her soft touch as he comes down from his high, releases the grip on her hair to run his thumb down her temple, to her cheekbone. 

She pulls off of him, looks up with this glint in her eye, and stretches up to kiss him slowly. 

His hand wraps around her neck, pulls her up into his lap and against him. His lips are warm and so soft, and she moans into his mouth when he cups her ass and holds her closer. 

.::.

Regina’s well satisfied, curled up against his chest in the bed of their newest hotel room. She traces circles up and down his bare chest, mesmerized by the feeling of the tip of her finger against his smooth skin. 

“You know,” she starts, barely gets the words out, “I think that we should just do it.” 

“Do what?” he asks, curling his arm around her to tug her into his side. “Rob a bank?” 

She rolls her eyes, swats his chest with her palm playfully. “No… well, actually yeah, that would be pretty fun,” she smirks. “But before that. Robin, let’s just be together.” 

“Uh oh,” he shifts, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

“Let’s just do this. Let’s just  _ be _ together. What do you think?” 

He splays his hand against her hip and gives her a soft squeeze. “I’m not thinking.” 

“What? What do you mean you’re not thinking?” 

“I’m not, and you need to quit thinking, love. Just be here, be in this moment.” 

“I don’t want to quit, Robin.” She sits up on her elbow, puts a hand on his cheek and turns his head to her. She leans in, presses a soft, slow kiss to his lips. “I love  _ you,  _ so let’s just do this.” 

He kisses her back, runs his fingers through her hair and collects a strand, twirling it around his knuckle. “I love you too.” 

“So let’s go for it. I know this isn’t going to be easy, but look at where we are right now. How can you walk away from this again, when we have it all right here?” 

“I can’t,” he gets out, and he runs a hand over his face. “I couldn’t walk away from this even if I tried.” 

She can feel the excited smile across her face, can’t be bothered to contain her joy. “Well then?” she asks, pressing her lips once more to his. 

He smiles into the kiss, tug her arm and pulls her so her body is draped over his. “I would want nothing more,” he grins, and kisses her again. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Sunday of OQMovieWeek

“Close your eyes.” 

She’s straddling his waist, both of her thighs draped over one of his, makeup brush in hand. She can’t believe he’s letting her do this, letting her accentuate the lines of his eyes with eyeshadow, the brush smooth against his skin. They’re drunk, hilariously so, have been for a few hours now. They spent their day lounging on the sand, trading sweet kisses and talking about nothing, and one glass of wine turned to five, for each of them. 

She’s a flirtatious and touchy drunk, always has been, so when she wrapped her arms around him and pressed slow kisses to his neck, his jaw, and asked if she could put makeup on him before they went out, she wasn’t surprised when he said yes. 

She’s clad in only a pair of smooth fishnet stockings and one of his button downs, running the brush over his closed eyelid. He’s beautiful like this, silent except for their shared breaths, one hand splayed over the curve of her ass, the other holding the eye palette. Her Robin, in every sense of the word. It still baffles her that they’ve found one another again, after all of this lost time. He’s a part of her soul, something she’d buried deep down long before, pushed aside because the pain of having lost him was too much for her to deal with. 

She curves the edge of the brush, trails it along his eyelashes, leans in to brush her lips once, twice over his before he opens his eyes. 

His grip on her ass tightens and he drops the palette on the edge of the sink, brings his other hand up to weave into her hair and draw her in for a kiss. 

Everything she wanted, everything she’d lost is right here in front of her, and it’s the scariest thing she’s ever experienced. 

The alcohol is swirling in her brain, muddling her emotions, but he feels so good beneath her and all of her worries melt away with each pass of his lips over hers. All of her senses are on fire; the taste of his lips, the sound of their shared breaths, his woodsy cologne filling her as she breathes in, the feel of the soft fabric of her fishnets and  his shirt against her cool skin. 

The deliciously warm feeling stays with her throughout their night, as they sway together until the flashing lights on the dance floor. His hands press against her body, palm against the curve of her spine, fingertips against the muscle in her thighs as he rakes her leg up. His calloused fingers feel  _ good _ against her, like nothing she’s used to, and she wants him to peel her clothing off of her and run his fingers against her bare skin. 

His lip are soft under hers, only separating to drink more wine or whisper deliciously dirty things into her ear. 

When they finish off the bottle he guides her into the center of the dance floor and rucks a hand up her dress, and it’s so,  _ so  _ good against her, between her thighs. It’s raunchy and dangerous, but there’s enough alcohol in her brain, as well as his, that she’s okay with this— okay with him touching her, kissing her, claiming her as his own. 

They stumble out of the club some hours later, arms linked around one another, stopping to trade sweet kisses as they go back to their hotel. 

“You’re fuckin’ wasted,” Robin growls out, kissing her lips again the second the words leave his mouth. 

“You’re?” she asks, kissing him again. “We’re drunk, love. Not jus’ me.” 

“You’re so hot when you’re drunk though,” he mumbles against her lips, kissing her again and again. “You’re hot, and your legs and waist and whole body is just bloody fantastic. I want to peel these clothes off of you, worship every inch of your beautiful body.” 

She’s flushed, can feel the heat rising into her cheeks, spreading through her blood. She wants him,  _ needs _ him, craves to climb him like a tree and let him have his way with her. They’re so drunk though, and she’s trying to pull him down the road, locking her fingers with his and tugging him along behind her. 

They come up along the front of a hotel, and he pins her to the bring wall by the door and drags his lips over her neck, sucking at a spot that has her writhing against him. “I don’t know if this is our hotel,” she gasps out, looking up at the sign above them as she tilts her head to give him better access. 

It’s not their hotel, and she’s suddenly pushing him away, just to give herself enough space to take his hand and pull him further down the road. She vaguely recognizes the sign on the hotel they’re actually supposed to be in, and their car is out front, so she drags him through the front door and into the elevator. 

He’s on her, kissing her, groping the visible skin up her thighs and to her hips. Every touch is heightened, every squeeze of his palms against her ass bringing her closer to him. The alcohol is making everything better, and  _ god,  _ they should have drunken sex more often. 

Not just drunk sex though, all sex. She can’t get enough of him. 

They break long enough to make it off of the elevator and down the hallway, stumbling to their door. He’s trying to pull the keys out of his pocket and she can barely stand, so she leans against the wall at watches him. His beautiful body, thick arms and sculpted ass wrapped in the soft fabric of his suit. His jacket is open, sleeves rolled up, and her eyes draw down to the muscles in his forearms as he wiggles the key into the lock. He can’t get the door open and she lets out a laugh, drops her head back and leans against the wall. “Having a bit of trouble?” 

Robin looks over and eyes her once, not hiding the wanton look on his face as he looks down at her fishnet-clad legs. “You could lend me a hand, love.” 

She lifts her leg, flings her shoe off in his direction, and he manages to catch her shoe. She’s got this sly grin on her face and he drops her shoe, comes to her and presses her against the wall, draws her thigh up around his hip. 

“I said a hand, love, not your shoe.” 

He kisses her, all warm tongue and soft lips, teeth nipping at her bottom lip. His hands are splayed under her thigh, fingertips against the underside of her ass, pulling her closer to him. She has both hands in his hair, holding his face to hers, drinking in everything he’s giving her. 

He smells so good, like the forest and red wine, and it’s perfect. So, unbelievably perfect. 

* * *

 

Friday

“Robin, I’ve been calling your editor for days now. Where are you? Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” He expected this was coming soon, her phone call, but he doesn’t have the energy to deal with this at the moment. He told her the same thing when he told her that he wasn’t coming home yet, but it’s been 3 days now, and he’s got to tell her something else. 

He’s not ready to go home yet. 

“I just wanted to know that you’re okay, Robin. I miss you.” 

He can’t say it back, just mumble a ‘ _ yeah’  _ into the phone. They talk for a few minutes about his art, the pictures he’s taken, and she gives him something about having to go to the store, and it’s over just as quickly as it began. 

God, his head hurts. 

Whoever above let he and Regina drink 4 bottles of wine is evil, and he wants nothing more than to crawl back into bed with her and sleep the day away. Bloody hell, though, Regina is gorgeous. She’s wrapped up in the sheets, her head against the edge of his pillow, hand lying against the sheets where he’d gotten up from. 

There’s a chance this could all blow up in their faces, drag them down into the pits of hell from each devilish thing they’ve done, but there’s still a part of him that wants to leave it all behind, run away with her and never look back. 

He climbs back into the bed, runs his fingers through her hair and cups the back of her head. His thumb brushes against her temple as she stirs under his touch, eyes fluttering open. She stretches out against the sheets, reaches her arms above her head and twists herself to turn toward him. 

“Morning beautiful,” he whispers, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’m not so bright and fucking cheery this morning,” he groans. 

She closes her eyes once and he takes her in, shifts himself down to lie next to her. 

“Tell me,” she asks, bringing her own hand up to cup his cheek. “What was that?” she asks, glancing at the phone he put on the table. 

“My own personal hangover.” 

She smiles, only a little though, and leans in to kiss his cheek. 

“What happened?” 

He shakes his head, brings a hand down against her waist. “She never stood a chance against you. It wasn’t fair though, I wasn’t fair. I never gave her a chance.” 

“Why?” she breathes out, so quiet he can barely hear her. 

“Because of us.” 

Regina’s quiet, drawing circles against his shoulder, down his arm, and so he continues everything he’s felt for so long. 

“I was a wreck after you. Life was foggy, and then the smoke cleared and she was just… there. I didn’t really think about it until I realized that I’d married myself.”

She shakes her head, shifts herself closer to him. “What do you mean?” 

“Neither of us like to do the dishes. She’s an artist— a painter, though. We can both cook, but only the same things. It’s a never ending cycle and it’s boring.” 

He watches as her eyes flutter closed, and he thinks he’s said too much, especially when she opens her eyes back up and he sees the tears collecting. Oh, oh no she’s crying, and his heart is breaking all over again, just like it did 8 years ago. 

“It’s…” she pauses, sucking in a shuddering breath. “It’s like I’m jealous and I don’t have any right to be.” 

He draws her in closer, their bodies pressed flush to one another’s. He brings his thumb up, brushes the tear threatening to fall away from her eye. “Kiss me in your jealous rage,” he murmurs against her lips, and she takes his cheek into her hand and brings him down into a soft kiss. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Monday of OQMovie Week

They leave the hotel shortly after breakfast, drive up the coast to Normandy and lounge on the beach, take in the warm sunlight and trade slow kisses on the sand. She still has a hangover, keeps her thick-framed sunglasses perched on her face and drapes a large sun hat onto her head. He’s been camera hungry today, taking photos of everything she does— how she reads her book on the beach, brushing her hair as they got ready for the day, every moment captured with each click. 

She’s excited for these photos though. Their new hotel has this gorgeous accent wall, lined with words in an elegant cursive, and she’s in love with it. As they arrived at the hotel that late afternoon, he pressed her against the wall, slipped her dress off of her as he went, leaving her in a silky gray slip that he rucked up and held out of his way as he slipped his tongue inside of her. 

He brought her over twice while she alternated between gripping his hair, holding his mouth to her, and scratching for purchase against the wall to hold herself up. It’s a sin, how talented he is with is mouth, how he knows exactly what to do to rile her up, hold her on that edge until she’s begging him, pleading mercilessly for him to let her fall over the edge. 

After she comes down from her high he’s back, camera in hand, taking picture of her as the orgasm fades and she catches her breath. He’s got this grin on his face and it’s cute, a bit cocky, but he’s earned it after making her come twice with only his lips and tongue. He looks good though, with disheveled hair and a pink tint to his cheeks. 

He’s beautiful, and hers, and she wishes desperately that she could see herself the way that she knows he sees her. 

She reaches out, wraps her fingers around the frame of the camera and slowly draws it out of his hands. 

“What’re you doing darling?” he asks. 

She smiles, turns the camera and clicks the shutter. “I love you.” 

“You got to turn my own camera on me,” he continues, reaching out to take it but she ducks away from his hand. “I don’t know how much I like my camera turned on me.” 

“But you’re beautiful,” she chides, switching places with him so she can take his picture as well. 

It’s playful and quick, a contrast to the dark conversation they’d had that morning about how  _ truly _ unhappy he is in his marriage. She didn’t realize how alike they both were in all of this— Daniel isn’t everything she’d dreamed of when she pictured her future. Hell, she didn’t even picture her wedding the way they’d had theirs. She wanted something small and intimate, a quiet ceremony with one or two witnesses, but she’d gotten the big white wedding with the gaudy dress and 300 people she barely knew. She should have known then that she was just settling. 

They don’t make it long before they’re both naked once again, and he’s bending her over the back of a chair with her arms pinned behind her back, working her up with these slow, deliberate thrusts inside her. It doesn’t take long until she’s writhing against him, begging him to move faster or touch her clit,  _ something  _ to let her come. He doesn’t though, and by the time she finally comes she’s a sweaty, pleading mess beneath him. 

He doesn’t let up though, keeps fucking her through her first orgasm and into her second, bringing her up and over again, and again until she finally pushes him away when it’s too much, she’s too sensitive. He wraps his arms around her and tugs her to the bed, and she’s asleep before he even lays her down. 

Regina startles awake a few hours later, when the moon is shining through the hotel window. Robin is still next to her, his arm wrapped securely around her middle, his breath coming out in little puffs against the back of her head. 

Holy  _ hell _ she feels good. 

She shifts in his arms, rolls over to look at him, but he stirs when she turns and his eyes flutter open slowly. 

“Times it?” he asks groggily, his voice thick with sleep. 

“A little after 11.” 

He smiles, eyes still barely open, and leans in to kiss her, his lips a light touch against hers. “I’m starved.” 

She smirks at him, traces her fingers up his chest and curls her palm over his shoulder. “Well, we did manage to work up quite an appetite earlier. Three orgasms do a lot for a girl.” 

He draws her in against him, kisses her slowly, before slipping out up bed and dragging her up with him. He brings his arm around her and she drops her head to his shoulder, yawning against his skin. “Throw some clothes on, love. We’ll go find something to eat.” 

It’s how they find themselves breaking into the hotel kitchen, their path illuminated with the flashlight from his phone. 

“We’re going to get caught,” she whispers, eyes darting back and forth between him raiding the big refrigerator in the kitchen, and the door she’s sure a security guard is going to come through. 

“Nonsense, I’ve done this plenty of times,” he laughs, rifling through the wrapped containers of food. “Oh, this is perfect. Open your mouth and close your eyes, love.” 

“What?” she gasps, shaking her head. “Oh, absolutely not. I’m not doing that.” 

He turns, his face backlit from the glow of the flashlight. It looks eerie, and she shakes her head again. “Nope, no way Robin Locksley.”

“What?” he laughs, pulling her in close so her face is lit up as well. “I wouldn’t put anything in your mouth that I wouldn’t put in mine.” 

Her eyebrow raises and she grins, glancing down at the sweatpants he threw on before they left the room, then back up at the cheeky smile on is face. “Oh really, is that so?” 

“Come on Regina,” he laughs again, hiding something in his hands. “Close your eyes and open up.” 

She trusts him, she truly does, so she closes her eyes and feels the press of something sweet against her tongue. Chocolate— the bastard went through all of that to feed her a piece of chocolate. It’s so good though, melts in her mouth, and she opens her eyes back up and smiles around the square of excellence that he’d given her. He’s fully laughing now, still silent though, and she leans in and kisses him, sharing the delicious taste of chocolate with him. 

.::.

Saturday

The next morning they’re lazy, spend the hours of sleep they lost lying in bed, wrapped up in one another. She finally peels herself out of the bed around 11, pads naked into the bathroom and runs the warm water into the tub. 

He comes up behind her as the tub fills, wraps his arms around her waist and draws her back against him. They’re both silent this morning, and she knows the melancholy feeling pitted low in her heart is getting worse as each morning comes. 

He presses a soft kiss to her shoulder, squeezes his hands against her hips. She’s staring down at her stomach, his palms against the flat plane of her body. 

“He’s the exact opposite of you,” she lets out, very voice barely louder than her breath. It’s been tearing her apart since his revelations about Marian, the unhappiness in his marriage that matches her own. “He’s selfish, spends most of his time at work or spending the money he made at work. We’re rarely together. I’ve been taking more and more trips for work, partially to get away from him… A little bit to see if I’d ever see you again, run into you, like this.” 

Robin is silent behind her, but as she brings up Daniel, his grip against her tightens just a bit. 

“He’s the exact opposite of you. I wanted… I needed someone that didn’t remind me of you, but  _ everything _ reminded me of you. I used to sit and flip through magazine credits, scan the front pages to see if I would see your name. I looked for you everywhere, in everything I did.” 

“You love him though,” Robin murmurs against her skin. He turns off the water, slips in and guides her in to lay with her back against his chest. The warm water burns her skin but it feels good, like a silent punishment for everything they’ve done in the past few days, the realization of their actions surfacing more and more with each passing moment. 

“I loved the thought of him. Hell, Robin, he wouldn’t sacrifice himself for anything if it didn’t benefit him. He means well, most of the time, I think… But he wasn’t you. I only wanted you.” 

He’s drawing these silly patterns against her skin with the water droplets falling off of the tips of his fingers, still silent. It’s making her nervous, the thought that maybe this won’t become more than they want it to be, the fact that after all this time, maybe the perfect bubble she’d created around this relationship isn’t real. 

He drops his hand again to her stomach, thumb tracing over her skin. “Why didn’t you have any kids?” 

She turns her head, sees the wet shine of unshed tears in his eyes. This conversation is hurting him too, that much she can see from the look on his face, and for how necessary it is she wishes they could just turn back time, rethink their actions that fateful night 8 years ago. 

“Because he wasn’t you.”

* * *

 

“You’ve listened to my advice, it seems,” Cruella starts, and he can hear the smugness in her voice. 

He rolls his eyes, leans against the window, watching outside as Regina fiddles with the motorcycle they rented. “Why’s that?”

“Your wife, she keeps calling me. It’s a good sign, Robin. You’re finding your muse, and possibly in more ways than one?” 

“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating, Cruella, but I can tell you that—” 

“Now, now, dear…” she trails on, a knowing sound in her tone. “All I’m saying is, I think I’m going to like what I get from you when you’re back to work.” 

He looks down again, see’s Regina waving for him to come down, pointing to the bike that she’s not got running. “I’ll talk to you on my way back,” he says, and he hangs up. 

They adventure around the town for a few hours, minds off of the painful topics they both keep bringing up. It’s hard not to, she keeps holding onto him like he’s going to disappear before her eyes, and he feels the same about her. This is all too good to be true, and dropping the guilt for a few hours lightens his heart. 

He takes her to this little cafe, and she sits with her legs draped over his in the booth, snacking on delicious food— which makes him also realize the lack of food they’ve consumed since their impromptu dinner date four evenings ago. 

She turns his head, runs her soft palm over the stubble of his cheek and leans in to kiss him. “Stop thinking, Robin. Just be here, be in the now with me. It’s easier this way.” 

He smiles at her, whispers a  _ ‘sorry love’  _ and kisses her back, savoring each touch of their lips. She tells him of this market she’s been to before, a collection of little shops gathered on a street corner that he wants to take her to, to keep up the facade. They walk there, a slow stroll up the street, and he finds himself stopping at a stand filled with a collection of children’s toys. 

Regina’s behind him then, arms coming up around him, her face buried in the dip between his shoulder blades. 

“How old is he? Your son?” 

His breath hitches, and he wraps one hand around the arms she has against him, the other gripping the toy bow and arrow under his palm. 

“He’s five.”

He can feel her breathing falter against his skin, and oh, it’s the one thing he hoped wouldn’t come up. He loves his son, truly adores the ground his child walks on, but through all of this he’s tried to keep Roland far from his mind.

He tells her though, spills his heart with tales of every perfect, incredible thing about his son. He’s glad she’s behind him, doesn’t want her to see the guilt etched across his face, because it’s not her fault. He loves her, would go through hell and back to spend every day at her side, but this was the one thing he knew would change every part of their situation. 

When he’s run out of words, drops his head down and lets out the breath he’s been holding for the past few days, she turns him. He’s reluctant, doesn’t know if he’s ready to see her, to let her see him this way, but she insists and takes his face in her hands, guiding him to look at her. His eyes open and he sees it, the look in her eyes he’s been afraid of this whole time. 

She stretches up onto her toes though, eliminates the space between them and kisses him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this isn't over yet!! Keep an eye out in the next day or two for the last chapter. 
> 
> Thank you all SO much for reading. My heart is so full with all of your comments and kudos. You're the absolute best, and I hope you've enjoyed this wild ride with me. You're all the greatest.


	8. Chapter 8

He’s so good inside of her, hard and thick, stretching her with every thrust, every tilt of his hips upward into hers. His back is pressed to hers, flush against her skin, her every curve matched within his. He has her leg though, spreading her open, her knee draped behind him, the pad of her foot against the soft blankets beneath them. 

He’s got one hand on her clit, the other cupping her breast, fingers pinching and twisting at her nipple, thumbing over it just before it becomes too much. They’re both quiet, soaking in the connection of their bodies, the sweet sound of him slipping into her, her wet heat wrapped around him. 

She links her fingers into his, holds his hand over her heart as he brings her over the edge, clenching around his as he comes inside of her. It’s sweet and sensual, and he whispers gorgeous words of love and adoration in her ear and she comes down from her high, her body trembling around him, beneath him. 

He slips out of her, goes to the bathroom to get a washcloth and cleans them both up. She’s half asleep when he climbs in, wraps his arm around her and falls asleep against her back. 

Regina startles awake a few hours later, watches as the sun sets and the moon rises out of her window. He’s still asleep, his body still close to his, but loose enough to where she can turn herself around and look at him in his slumber. It’s perfect, he’s perfect, and she touches him ever-so-lightly, her joy slowly turning to guilt. 

“Once we make it real…” she whispers, her eyes never leaving his sleeping form. “Once we expose it to everyone, they’ll come after us.” 

She can feel the tears pricking in the corner of her eyes— she hasn’t cried this much since since her sister had her child, and Regina was swept away in a longing for a little baby his eyes, her hair, and his dimples. Oh  _ god,  _ he has a son. 

“It’s like we’ve been in our own little island, and once they come… we’ll be shell shocked.” She memorizes his face, the line of his jaw slack with sleep, the slope of his nose and shape of his eyes, every perfect part of him tucked under the sheets they’ve tangled themselves in. He’s too good to be true, and the thought that this time they’ve spent together may not last stabs at her heart. 

She’s not ready to give him up, not now, not  _ ever _ . 

.::.

Sunday

Regina moves from his arms, moving silently through the bedroom to pull her clothes on and clean herself up. It’s early in the morning, the sun barely rising over the horizon as she slips out of the room and pads her way up the street. 

She doesn’t know how long she sits in the pew of the cathedral, staring up at the stained glass murals, the sun shining through. There’s red and yellow hues coming down on her face, and she feels the warmth hit her cheeks, and her eyes close. There’s peace surrounding her, filling her heart, and the panic she’d felt building for the past few days melts away. She’s never been a religious person, has spent most of her time avoiding the concept altogether, but at this point she’ll take anything, any sign of what the next few days should entail. 

There’s a soft  _ tap _ of feet coming up behind her, and she doesn’t have to turn to know that it’s Robin. He moves down the pew, sits and stares at the candles flickering at the altar. His hand comes out, fingers guiding up her arm and tangling with her own, his thumb tracing over her knuckle. 

The tears in the corner of her eyes surprise her, and she closes her eyes again, head dropping down. 

“We need a miracle.” 

His hand is tightly gripped around hers, and she knows, even with his lack of words, that he feels the same. It’s cruel, this twisted fate they’ve found themselves in. 

She continues, not willing herself to look at him. “No matter how many words I use in our story, it always ends with the same sentence. 

He turns her head toward him, runs the pad of his thumb over the curve of her cheekbone. “Tell me Regina, are you trying to write yourself out of it?” 

The tears drip down now, a steady fall against her cheeks, moving down toward where his thumb rests. “No,” she shakes her head, letting out a shuddering breath. “This is my heart, it’s yours. I’m not protecting it anymore.” 

* * *

He wants to take as many pictures of her as he can, now, while they have time. The wind is catching her hair, the fabric of her white dress formed against every curve of her body. He can see her hard nipple through the dress, her dark areola standing out through the white cotton, and the curve of the underside of her breast as she stretches her arms above her head, taking in the sunlight basking against her skin. There is no part of her that isn’t beautiful, inside and out. Every inch of her is what he’s craved for so long, before she was even a part of his life. 

He snaps away, burning through the film in his old camera, capturing every moment her body shifts, or the wind whips in a different direction. 

He needs it all, every part of her. 

The sadness is deeply pitted in his heart, in his  _ soul.  _ She’s weaved her way back in and there’s no part of him that wants to live without her, though he isn’t sure there is a way. There are so many factors in play, and unfortunately for the both of them, their hearts aren’t at the top of the list. He knows, can tell just from how she’s changed in the past day that she feels it too. 

Robin places the camera on the table, walks out onto the balcony and collects her into his arms, turning her and pinning her to the railing. “Do you remember when we would argue what you would say?” 

Her arms come around his shoulders and she shakes her head no, though the mischievous gleam in her eyes says otherwise. 

His lips are against her ear, nipping once at the spot against her neck before he whispers, “You’d say let’s just fuck it out.” 

She turns her own head, kisses his neck and sucks at his skin, nips at it then soothes over him with her tongue. “I did?” she asks, and he can feel the curve of her smile against him. 

He nods, brings his hands down and curls around the curve of her ass, hiking her up and against him. He’s hard against her hip, can feel her nipples through her dress brushing against his skin, her hands working their way up his shirt, against his sides. 

“I’d like to now,” she breathes out, and it’s all the permission he needs before he’s lifting her up, her legs coming around his waist as he carries her back into their room. 

Their clothes can’t come off fast enough. He drops her on their bed, starts to pulls her clothes off but she smacks his hands away, pushes him to get himself naked while she undresses herself. He drops to his knees, spreads her legs over his shoulders and buries himself between her thighs, licking and sucking at her until she’s a writhing mess beneath him, babbling out these pleading whines, begging him to let her come. He keep her on that edge though as long as he can, drawing away from her before going back in, again and again until she can’t hold it anymore, slides two fingers into her and curls them up, bringing her over as she screams out her cries. 

She’s up then, pulling him up and rolling him onto her back so she can go down on him. She wraps her hand around his cock, strokes him as her tongue circles over his tip. He’s painfully hard beneath her, wants nothing more than to grip her hair and fuck her mouth, but  _ oh  _ it feels so good when she takes him. 

After a few minutes he can’t take it, reaches down to draw her up his body and pull her down against him in a kiss. He still has the taste of her in his mouth, and the mix of him on her tongue has him moaning into their kiss, gripping her hips tightly. 

She breaks their kiss for air, drops her forehead to his and closes her eyes, catching her breath. “I love you,” she lets out, her lips dragging to his cheek to press a kiss there. He’s got her on top of him, her weight above him as they take in this moment, their hearts beating against one anothers.

“I love you too,” he tells her, his arms wrapping around her to hold her close.

Their needy desire is gone, and though he’s still hard, his erection pressed between them, he wants to take it slow, savor every stroke within her. He rolls her, pins her body underneath his and pushes a hand between her thighs, spreading her legs, two fingers against her clit. 

It’s slow from there, a lazy drag of the pads of his fingers against her, warming her back up to where she should be, should  _ always _ be. His other hand comes up, wraps around her wrist and pins her back to the bed. He checks, looks for her nod, and when his lips connect with hers he pours into her, all of his thoughts melding between them. 

Her free palm is against his cheek, caressing his face as he drops his hips and slips into her warm heat, and she lets out a gasp. She draws him to her, kisses him soundly as he starts to move, thrusting his hips lazily against hers. He’s savoring it, each breathless moan she gives him, the feeling of her warmth wrapped around his cock, the sound of their bodies meeting, slick with sweat where their skin touches. 

He feels her fingers tangle in his hair, breaking their kiss as he drags his lips across her cheek and down, settling on her neck then shoulder. She’s moaning into his ear, quiet  _ oh’s  _ and  _ ah’s  _ that have heat blooming in his stomach. The breathy moans turn him on even more, when he hits that spot just right that has her toes curling, hand in is hair tightening so her nails drag against his scalp. This is perfect, it’s all that he wanted from her, all that he never wants to give up. 

She lifts her leg up, wraps it securely around his hip, keeping him pinned to her. He still has her wrist, slides his fingers up to tangle with hers, pinning her hand down beside her head. This is it, he can feel her body clenching around his slow, lazy thrusts, holding him inside of her. “Robin,” she cries out, her back arching beneath him as his free hand circles over her clit, the fast pace a contrast to his cock inside of her, and he brings her up,  _ up _ and over until she stills, her head dropped back on a silent cry, orgasm crashing it’s way through her. Her body wracks underneath of his and he stills, explodes inside her before collapsing partially on her body, pinning her down as they catch their breath. 

* * *

He tries to roll off of her but she keeps her arms and leg around him, wants him pressed to her body, his weight and warmth atop of her. It makes it real, like they won’t wake up in the morning and face reality that this may never work. She won’t cry, doesn’t want to tarnish their high with tears of loss, not while they still have time together. 

He finally shifts off of her, wraps her up in his arms and he slowly drifts off to sleep. 

Regina’s right behind him, her eyes barely open, but she doesn’t want to sleep. Doesn’t want to face the next morning— just wants to stay in this moment for as long as she can, watching his chest rise as fall in his slumber. She curls her hand around the back of his neck, shifts closer to press her forehead to his chest, breathing him in, feeling his heartbeat against her skin. 

“No one will ever love me like you do.” 

.::.

Monday

When she stirs the next morning and reaches out, her hand meets a piece of paper, folded in half and tucked under a half-eaten apple, with  _ Regina _ written across the front of it in his scrawl. 

She sits up, takes the note into her hand and just stares at it. It hurts too much to open it, and she knows, has known what it would say since the day she fell into bed with him last week. Though she knows, recognizes that it was inevitable, she still can’t will herself to believe it’s true. 

The note stays against his pillow as she climbs out of the bed, takes a long hot shower, her fingers working the shampoo and conditioner through her hair, savoring over every inch of her body, eyes skirting away from the marks he’d left the night before. She packs what little she has into her duffle, lifting the bag to her shoulder when her recorder slips out and drops onto the floor. 

It had been tucked away, and she feel her fingers shake as she reaches down and pick it up, pressing play. His voice fills the room, a strong  _ ‘I love you’  _ echoing over and over between each beep. A smile warms her face, and she turns the device off, puts it back into the safe pouch in her bag. 

She finally slips the note into her pocket, pushing her sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose and stepping out into the sunlight. 

The train ride is quiet. 

She has the car to herself, peeks around a few times to make sure shes alone before she pulls out his note. 

_ My Darling Regina,  _

_ I’m writing these words at my weakest moment, but this decision doesn’t come lightly.  _

_ You’ve always been the one with the words. So elegant, everything you speak so beautifully written, sculpted like Donatello’s Saint Mark. I’ve never been good with words. They’re confusing, and I could never capture a story as well as you. It’s why I take pictures. They’re quick and always in the moment, even when posed.  _

_ I think it’s why we’ve worked so well together, all this time.  _

_ Fuck, I love you. I love you so much, more than anything in this world. I love everything about you— how you push me to be the best. How you kiss me. How you can hold a conversation. You make me want to learn, make me want to travel the world and fill my head with the knowledge of how to live, how to grow. You make me want to be a better father.  _

_ You make me want to be your husband.  _

_ I hate this.  _ _ Fuck This. _ _ But, I have to do this. I want to be with you— need to be with you. But I need to take care of this.  _

_ The sun is rising, and it’s time to go.  _

_ Ps, Bring a motorcycle. _ 


_ Robin  _

.::.

The cab ride to the airport is anything but quiet. 

“You look better, Ms. Mills. You sound more joyful than when you got into the car.” Marco is sweet, doting on her, and when she questions why he never called her last week, the day he was supposed to pick her up to the airport, he gives her a knowing look through the rear view mirror. “No one comes here for business anyhow. You know what they say? Paris— its for lovers only.”

She watches out the window, scanning over the streets and the buildings she’d dreaded only days before. Her heart pounds as they turn up a street she knows all too well, and when she spots a familiar black motorcycle parked outside of a familiar hotel, she brings a hand up to the window, tapping at the glass. She looks up, see’s a figure looming in the window on the second floor, and her heart leaps. 

“Marco, stop the car.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank all of you for giving this love story a shot. You’re absolutely amazing, and I’m so thankful.


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